


Colors

by shir_oh_no



Series: Shance Art AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Fluff, M/M, Nude Modeling, Painter Shiro, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 13:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shir_oh_no/pseuds/shir_oh_no
Summary: Lance models for Shiro





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of my Shance art student au :)
> 
> Honestly this is partially just my excuse to gush about art while simultaneously writing about Shiro pining for Lance
> 
> I do want to give a heads up for a rape trigger warning. There is a moment were Lance is talking about a female artist, and there isn't mention of the word, but it is implied. If it bothers you, I suggest skipping the paragraph beginning ""So basically,". I just want to give everyone a heads up, just in case.

“Okay, it’s no big deal, you can do this,” Shiro said to himself, trying to work up the nerve to hit the ‘call’ button. “He already said he’d help, and is expecting your call, just relax and do it already.” Shiro took a deep breath and tapped the screen before he could psych himself out too much.

The phone rang twice and then “Hello?” Lance’s voice chimed, slightly distorted over the phone, but still music to Shiro’s ears.

“Uh, hi Lance, it’s Shiro,” He said.

“Oh! Hey Shiro! I was hoping you’d call soon!” Lance chirped, “I thought you might have changed your mind and moved on to another subject!”

Shiro felt the tension that had been weighing on his shoulders since Tuesday finally ease. “Sorry, I’ve been busy the past few days, but I was wondering if you were free tonight? To model for me?”

“Yeah, sure! Do you mind coming over here though? I’d be more comfortable here if that’s okay?”

“That actually sounds great; I have a roommate and I don’t think he’d appreciate strange naked men around the house,” Shiro laughed.

“Are you calling me strange?” Lance joked.

Shiro blushed, thankful that the other man could not see his embarrassment. “No! I just meant- “

“I know what you meant,” Lance chuckled. “And it’s fine. My roommate left for the weekend anyway. I’ll text you the address and see you in a bit?”

“That sounds good! See you soon, and thank you Lance!” Shiro hung up the phone before he could say anything embarrassing and let out a sigh of relief. Thank god that was over. Except, now he was headed to Lance’s home, where it would just be the two of them, and Lance would not have clothes on. Shiro’s tension and nerves came back, full force. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

  _Knock, knock, knock_

Shiro fidgeted where he stood, shifting his backpack slightly and pretending like he was a lot calmer than he really was. He had a blank canvas tucked under his left arm and a pencil tucked behind his ear.

“Hang on a sec!” Shiro heard a voice calling from behind the door, immediately followed by a loud _thump_ and a mumble that Shiro could only assume was a curse of some sort.

The door burst open, and Shiro was met with a smiling, bright-eyed, very _naked_ Lance who grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him into the room.

Shiro’s first thought was _oh shit_ , followed quickly by _wow this is a really nice apartment_ and then back to _oh shit_ because Lance was _naked_ and Shiro was _so_ not prepared for this.

“Sorry about the mess and, uh, this,” Lance gestured to himself, “I was still in bed when you called and I figured, why bother putting on clothes when they’d be off again soon enough, so.”

Shiro blinked, processing Lance’s words. Apparently, he slept naked and Shiro was very much not prepared for this. Wait a second, “Lance, it’s five in the afternoon on a Friday. How were you still in bed?”

Lance’s cheeks pinkened, momentarily distracting Shiro because _wow_ that was a beautiful shade. “I didn’t have class today and I just didn’t feel like getting out of bed?”

A laugh bubbled out of Shiro, and he covered his mouth with his prosthetic to avoid full on laughing at the other man, but he couldn’t control his reaction to the ridiculous way Lance had explained his nudity so late in the day.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, pretty boy,” Lance huffed, “but I was modeling last night for a drawing class and that takes way more energy than you would think.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro chuckled. “Wait, did you just call me pretty?”

Lance’s blush deepened, and Shiro’s cheeks turned pink to match. “Uh, I, um, so how did you want to do this?” Lance stuttered. His eyes widened. “I meant the painting! How would you like to do the painting?”

Shiro remembered the canvas he was holding and set it down, swinging his backpack off his shoulder and so he could rummage through it, looking for his portable easel. “Yeah, right, that’s what I’m here for!” He glanced around the room, his gaze landing on the pale blue couch set up against the wall. “Could I position you on the couch? If you’re comfortable with that?”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Lance crossed the room and sat down on the couch.

Shiro set up the easel a few feet from the couch, far enough away that he could see the entire length of the couch. He turned off his thoughts about how good Lance looked and focused on his final project, viewing the boy through the eyes of an artist, rather than the eyes of someone who wanted to get on his knees and make him scream. “Lay down either way you’re comfortable, please?”

Lance lay down on his back, folding his left arm to tuck under his head, his elbow pointed up.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Shiro nodded. “Could you hook your left leg over the back of the couch please?”

Lance did so, but blushed at how on display he was. Shiro noticed his slight discomfort.

“Do you have a blanket we could use to drape across your lap?”

“Is it alright if it’s pink?” He asked. Shiro nodded his approval, already thinking about the contrast of blues and pinks against Lance’s skin.

Lance hopped up from the couch and disappeared into a room connected to the living room. While he was gone, Shiro filled up his water mug in the kitchen and set to work brining out his palette and paints, already thinking about how to mix the right shade of Lance’s skin. He’d spent the past few days practicing, and he felt like he might finally have the right combination of colors to end up with the warm golden tan that was Lance.

As Shiro added subtle colors to his base tan, Lance came back into the room carrying a soft pink blanket. He repositioned himself on the couch silently, laying the blanket across his lap. Shiro paused with his painting and looked at Lance, frowning at the way the fabric lay.

“May I?” He gestured to Lance’s lap. The other boy nodded his consent, and Shiro carefully lay his palette on the ground and moved to the couch. He picked up the blanket, ignoring all his indecent thoughts, and draped the cloth carefully, making sure the fabric folded over itself and over Lance’s lap, without covering too much of other the young man’s thighs, and keeping the seductive V shape on his hips.

Satisfied, Shiro went back to his easel and picked up his palette. “Are you okay with me starting now?”

Lance’s eyes were wide, and his lips were parted, harsh little breaths leaving his mouth every few seconds. Shiro watched, amused, as Lance shook his head slightly, shutting his mouth and blinking rapidly, as if he’d been lost in his head for a moment and was just returning to earth. “Yep! Yeah, let’s do this!” He smiled at Shiro, and the other man began to work.

Satisfied with the color he had _finally_ mixed, he began to paint the rough shape of his body. “So, Lance, tell me about yourself? I’ve seen you naked way too much to not know anything about you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lance laughed, “Well, I’m twenty-one years old, I’m in my third year here and I study art history with a double minor in normal history and anthropology, for starters.”

“Oh yeah?” Shiro hummed, putting his tan-covered paintbrush in his water mug and picking up a brown paint and smaller paintbrush. “Who’s your favorite artist?”

“Oh man,” Lance gushed, “How can I only pick _one_?” The tension he had felt since Shiro began dissipated as he began to talk about his favorite artists for the next almost hour.

Shiro was content to sit there in silence and work as Lance filled the room with his babble. Occasionally, Shiro asked a question about one of the artists to assure Lance that he was still listening, and Lance happily answered him.

As Shiro worked on copying the image in front of him, Lance let his knowledge about his major _shine_ , describing his favorite artists and artworks from Verrocchio to Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci in the High Renaissance, through the Baroque with Artemisia Gentileschi and Bernini, putting an entire ten minutes into Artemisia describing her life and how she set the tone for future female artists. Shiro had stopped to ask about her, as he had never heard her name before.

“So basically, she had been sent to learn to paint from this guy, but he abused his power over her, and she took him to trial so he would get punished. The way the courts ran back then, she was basically tortured, and the theory was that the woman would endure the pain to tell the truth, except most women caved into the pain, which is really fucked up, but she ended up winning the trial and the guy went to jail, but only for a few months, and she spent the rest of her career painting images of men and women I conflict, including a lot of copies of Judith and Holofernes, where she painted herself as Judith and her former mentor as Holofernes which is so _badass_ and she was so _awesome_ even though she went through so much shit and she doesn’t get enough credit.” Lance’s voice was filled with so much admiration for the artist, and Shiro felt a warm fluttering in his chest as he heard the other man talk.

“And after the Baroque era?” Shiro prompted, moving onto the details of Lance’s hair.

Lance continued his long monologue, moving past the next few centuries and picking up in the early 20th century with Marcel Duchamp and the concept of Dadaism. Within a matter of minutes, Lance had talked about Duchamp’s penchant for dressing like a woman and began critiquing Jackson Pollock’s work, choosing to talk more about his wife and fellow artist, Lee Krasner instead.

“I just think it’s really weird how art in this age is seen more as a feminine thing, when there have been so few praised female artists in history,” Lance made a face, causing Shiro to break is concentration on the painting and laugh.

“Are you saying I’m feminine?” Shiro joked.

“Of course not,” Lance smiled, “I’m not really into femininity in guys and let me assure you, you hit all the right notes. I’m just saying, as a cultural thing, the arts are perceived to be something women primarily do.”

Shiro tried to hold back his smile at Lance’s obvious flirtation. “I don’t mean to tell you to stop talking now, but I need to paint your face really quick and I can’t do that if it’s moving.”

Lance blushed, “Yeah, I get it. Any specific face you want me to make?”

Shiro looked over his painting, trying to determine which kind of expression would go best with the body, and remembered how the other man had looked right before they had begun. “I, uh, could you maybe look like you’re turned on?” Shiro bit his lip, “I just think, you know, it would look the best with this.”

Lance’s features shifted, making him look like he was trying to be sexy. It was good, but not quite what Shiro wanted.

“No, that’s not right,” Shiro huffed. Lance furrowed his eyebrows, looking offended.

“Then what do you want?”

Shiro hesitated, “What were you thinking about before we started? Like when I was fixing the blanket?”

Color rushed to Lance’s face, “uh, I, um, you?”

Shiro blushed, his professionalism forgotten at Lance’s confession. “Me? What about me?”

Lance looked up at the ceiling, trying to look calm. “Something I’m not comfortable discussing right now but it was really good.”

“Could you think about it again?” Shiro swallowed thickly, only imagining what could have been running through the other man’s head.

Lance’s eyes glazed over, drifting down to look past Shiro. His mouth dropped open gently, his teeth glinting slightly behind his lips.

Shiro could feel his chest tighten, and quickly refocused on the canvas so he could finish. In a matter of minutes, the painting was finished, and he was more than slightly turned on.

“I’m done!” Shiro said, louder than what was probably appropriate in the silence of Lance’s apartment.

Lance blinked, returning to himself. “Already?”

Shiro check his phone’s clock, “It’s been two hours, Lance.” Shiro let out a shy laugh at the look of disbelief on Lance’s face.

Lance shifted on the couch, wincing as blood returned to the body parts that hadn’t moved in a while. “Uh, I’ll be right back,” he said weakly, getting up with the blanket hanging in front of his body, already moving towards the room he had gone to earlier.

Shiro took that as his cue to clean up his brushes in the sink. He also wiped down his palette and rinsed his water cup out before putting everything back in his backpack. Next, carefully removed the canvas from the easel and laid it on the floor, the paint side up. He folded up his easel and returned it to his bag.

As Shiro finished packing up, Lance returned to the living room, this time wearing a pair of dark jeans and a dark red tank top. “Oh, you’re leaving already? Don’t you want to wait for the paint to dry?” Lance looked a little sad.

Shiro smiled, leaving his things behind to cross the room and stand in front of Lance. “I don’t live too far away from here, and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming with me to take it back to my apartment, and then maybe I could take you out to dinner if you don’t have any other plans?”

Lance smiled, back, his grin stretching across his face, “I would love to, but first may I see the finished painting? Gotta know what I was modeling for, after all.”

Shiro nodded quickly, his smile growing. He went back to his supplies and picked the canvas out, facing the paint towards Lance.

Lance gasped softly, taking in Shiro’s finished painting. In the painting, his legs looked long, only disrupted by the soft pink across his lap. His skin looked smooth and flawless, and his hair was on the calmer side of messy against his folded arm. His face though, was what amazed him. Somehow, Shiro had been able to put so much detail into his face, making him look lust blown and borderline _obscene_.

“Shiro,” he began, “I look _hot_.”

Shiro, who had been waiting nervously to hear the art historian’s critique, snorted out a laugh. “I only painted what was already there,” he winked at Lance.

“Holy shit,” Lance touched his face, running his fingers over his own lips.

Smiling so much his face hurt, Shiro turned the painting away from Lance’s view. “So, what do you say? Ready to grab something to eat?”

“Yeah,” Lance exhaled, already moving towards the door to pull on his shoes.

Shiro watched him as he picked up his backpack. It was too early to be certain, but Shiro felt like there could be something important between them. As he watched Lance lace up his shoes, a warm smile still on the other man’s face, he really hoped he was right.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at [shir-oh-no](https://shir-oh-no.tumblr.com/)


End file.
